


Meet the Howells

by abyss_valkyrie (Technomancer28)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Fic, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Get together fic, Getting Together, Gift Fic, Howell family - Freeform, Humour, M/M, rssmallgifts2017, wizarding AU, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Technomancer28/pseuds/abyss_valkyrie
Summary: Sirius accompanies Remus to join Hope Lupin and Remus' grandfather during Christmas.





	Meet the Howells

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set in the Wizarding world but with an all around happy atmosphere because who needs angst during the holidays? There are plenty of OCs because we know next to almost nothing about Remus' mother's side of the family. Naturally a lot of googling went into this. Welsh readers, know that any glaring mistakes are not intentional! Many thanks to my betas Muse, Gloom and Shaggy who turned this fic around! DCI Silver is a name for the TV show I made up for this fic.

**Title:** Meet the Howells   
**Author/Artist:** [ ](https://abyss-valkyrie.dreamwidth.org/profile) [ **abyss_valkyrie**](https://abyss-valkyrie.dreamwidth.org/)

**Recipient:** [ **digthewriter**  ](https://digthewriter.dreamwidth.org/)

 

Sirius should have heeded the lone magpie in the tree, just outside his house, that had screeched (yelled) at him earlier on his way to work.

 _One for sorrow, two for joy, three for—_  Sirius’ mind had supplied and he had just as quickly shaken it off before Disapparating; clearly Remus’ superstitious influence was far reaching.  
  
When Sirius returned from work, exhausted, the magpie from before had gained four friends which glared at him in unison before they burst into a chorus of loud screeches.  _What the hell?_  
  
Sirius quickly walked through the fence gate. It shut and locked itself the moment he stepped on the lawn and the screeching halted, interrupted by the enchantments. Yes, there was a fence—white and all. Sirius had no regrets; it came with a garden and neighbours (a pair of twins) who liked to play on Tuesday nights three houses away.  
  
“Moony?” he called out when he crossed the threshold of his house and saw the lights turned on. Suddenly, prior exhaustion and bird noises were forgotten. With a skip in his step, he shook the snow from his hair and draped his jacket over the sofa in the living room beside Remus’ charcoal overcoat. The crackling fire in the hearth and aroma of rosemary chicken greeted Sirius and he felt the same rush of emotions he felt every time Remus returned from Hogwarts during a break.  
  
Sirius headed to the kitchen, unable and unwilling to hide his wide smile. Five years of living together with one’s best friend, smiles, good feelings and all were acceptable and probably expected.  
  
“Hullo.” Remus called out and threw a smile over his shoulder, working his wand over the stove and counter all at once. “How was work? Do I have to help with re-growing anything? Toes? Eyebrows?”  
  
“Nope.” Sirius patted himself down showily. “All body parts accounted for. How’ve you been? Anything new happen at good ol’ Hogwarts?” he asked as he sat down on a bar stool.  
  
“There’s always something new at good ol’ Hogwarts,” Remus replied and levitated a dish from the oven on to the dining table and Sirius’ mouth watered. “I may have charmed the armours to sing  _Ice ice baby_ , say—” he set down a plate full of greens, “—five days from now on Christmas Eve.”  
  
Sirius grinned as he began setting the table. “Professor Lupin, setting a bad example? Imagine all the Muggle-borns joining in though; I knew you’d make me proud someday.”  
  
“Ah yes, Sirius Black’s approval. Precisely why I do everything, of course.” Remus’ eyes twinkled as they sat down for dinner.  
  
Later that night, while Remus was watching  _DCI Silver_  on telly and Sirius was pouring over papers from work, James' owl tapped on the window.Sirius looked up distractedly as Remus left his perch on the sofa to retrieve the letter. He handed it to Sirius unopened and hurried back to the show. Sirius rolled his eyes at the telly and opened the envelope; the cases weren’t bad, per se; just very easy to figure out.  
  
His penchant for guessing (correctly!) and snide comments about Silver being slow on the uptake had gotten him banned from watching the show. Apparently, Remus enjoyed the way things played out and guessing the culprit was part of the fun; Sirius spoiling it was just not on.  
  
Sirius finished reading the letter and folded it. He waited until the damned show was over; he could wait all day (well, not really) for that wondrous expression Remus wore whenever he finished a good episode. He joined Remus on the sofa, settling comfortably.  
  
“James and Lily want to take Harry to Austria for Christmas,” Sirius informed Remus, waving the letter. “Which means it’s just the two of us making merry and all, this year.” The thought of it being just the two of them warmed Sirius the way it always did.  
  
“Two thirty-year old bachelors making merry? Knitting counts as a work-out; good idea there,” Remus said drily and glanced at Sirius who tutted and stretched an arm over the backrest.  
  
“We’ll go for a ride along the countryside and hit up a few bars.” Sirius took the opportunity to slide closer, so that their sides were touching. “You know, things that  _young_  men do?”  
  
“Yes, I suppose so,” Remus said absently, flexing his fingers and cracking his joints. “Actually—” he looked at Sirius then, a bit guarded. “My mum called earlier today. Asked if I could join her and Grandad for Christmas this year.”  
  
Sirius felt the excitement draining away. “Right. So what did you tell her?”  _Please, let it be a big ‘no!’_  
  
“I don’t really want to rehash any conversation about settling down, but—” Remus sighed, “—I haven’t seen Grandad in ages, Padfoot,” he reasoned, turning bristly. He'd probably realised that he shouldn't need to explain his life choices to Sirius.  
  
“When do you have to leave?” Sirius asked, trying to keep the dismay at the prospect of a lonely Christmas off his face.  
  
Remus was still looking at him carefully, as though he knew just how Sirius felt. He probably did. “Tomorrow. I’ll come back next week.”  
  
Fuck. Sirius let his lips curl up into a smile. “Muggle Christmas, eh? Could be fun, though, right?” He was trying to see the bright side and all. “Guess it’ll be just me and the many blokes I’ll be chatting up—”  
  
“Do you want to come with me?” Remus cut in. It took a few seconds for the words to register.  
  
“With you? To Cardiff?” Sirius asked, vaguely remembering Remus mentioning that Hope had moved in with her father after her husband’s death.  
  
“No, to visit the Queen,” Remus rolled his eyes but ended up smiling. “To the  _great_  ancestral house of the Howell’s. Mind you, it’s nothing on the level of Grimmauld Place, but it’s—” he paused, “—charming-ish? All Muggle, big back garden, trees, and a lot of space if you want to let Padfoot come out and play.”  
  
Merlin! Remus was close to begging here, wasn’t he? A little stunned, Sirius placed a hand on Remus’ arm. “Moony, you had me at ‘all Muggle’ and it wasn’t me who needed convincing, you know?”  
  
Remus sighed, but the smile he was holding back? Yeah, he was pleased. He shifted on the sofa. “You’ve got me there, maybe mum will forget that I’m an  _old_  bachelor, with you around.”  
  
“By the way, mum’s family doesn’t know anything about me. Magic,” Remus clarified. “So we’ll have to be very careful with the wands.”  
  
“I’m an Auror, Moony,” Sirius reminded Remus with a shit-eating grin. “Discretion is my game.”  
  
Remus gave him the  _look_ , the one that said no, he was not convinced; he’d known Sirius for nineteen years now. Remus was underestimating him; it was just a week among a bunch of Muggles. Sirius could handle it just fine.

*

Whistling a jaunty tune, Sirius stepped outside the fence with his motorbike in tow. Between his assignments and Remus’ work, they hadn’t had time for a long ride like this. Just imagining Remus’ arms tight around his torso (maybe he would lean over Sirius’ back because he still got sick whenever Sirius drove), with the wind whipping past them—

  
The damned bird screeched as it greeted Sirius, officially bursting his bubble, and he cursed.

“Padfoot,” Remus called out from inside as Sirius glared at the magpie. It just gave him the stink-eye.  _What for?_

“Coming,” He shouted back and secured the motorbike with a Theft-Proof Charm before going inside to retrieve his luggage, but not before throwing a suspicious glance at the bird.

It wasn’t until the last ten kilometres on the M4 motorway that the motorbike suddenly wobbled dangerously. Remus’ grip tightened on Sirius’ jacket as the bike veered uncontrollably and they let out startled shouts. A busted tyre? Shit!

Sirius debated between activating the Flight Charms (fuck secrecy laws) and slowing down in midst of the high-speed vehicles. He glanced towards the roadside and with his heart in throat, hoping that he didn’t end up killing both of them, he went on full throttle.

Suffice to say that it resulted in a minor accident that would never be mentioned again.

“Oh my God,” Remus said faintly, stuck in a roadside hedge. Sirius pulled him up, repaired the flat tyre, and activated the Flight Charms. “Oh, God. Thank God, we’re alive.”

Flying made it easy for Sirius to hide his jelly legs and he rolled his eyes (now that they weren’t in danger any longer); Remus could handle deathly transformations every month but one motorbike ride that  _could_  have led to death and suddenly he was recalling God.

Within the city, they landed in the shadow of overgrown trees on the pavement and drove the rest of the way to the Howell’s house without further incident. As soon as Sirius parked the motorbike, Remus dismounted and the front door opened as Remus’ mum came practically flying to hug her son. Sirius hung back, allowing Remus to have his moment with his mum, a little wistfully.

“Sirius! So wonderful to see you both in one piece,” Hope greeted Sirius, who straightened and smiled at her politely, not anticipating the tight hug until he had a pair of thin arms around him and he was looking down at a head of brown and silver hair.

“Of course.” Sirius managed weakly as he gingerly patted her back and narrowed his eyes at Remus, who was holding back a laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of letting any harm reach your son.” And now he sounded like a bloke out to please his mother-in-law or something.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Hope replied with a pat on his cheek as she let go, surprising Sirius. It had been almost six years now that someone had touched Sirius like that, not since Mrs. Potter’s death. “Remus is probably only here, thanks to you. Would have probably put off coming here for another year if he could,” she told Sirius conversationally, and he tried not to laugh at the affronted look Remus wore.

“Glad to see you too, Mum,” Remus said drily as he followed with both his and Sirius’ bags. Sirius immediately reached back for his bag but Hope swatted his hand away.

“Oh no, you don’t. You’ve been driving for hours now.” She motioned for Remus to come up beside her. “The snow wasn’t a problem, was it?” Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, and left out the accident bit as they told her about the busted tyre.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Remus said worriedly when Sirius mentioned about the possibility that the beady-eyed magpie from earlier (that just  _hated_  Sirius) had probably punctured his tyre with its little beak. “But honestly, it probably happened on the road.” Sirius would never get over how Remus could be both intellectual and weirdly superstitious at the same time.

“Well, could have been worse, I suppose. We’ll find you a rabbit’s foot, dear.” Bless Remus’ mum. 

*

Hope seemed to be absolutely charmed by everything Sirius did (he had reflexively caught her and the dish that had gone flying from her hand when she tripped on his feet, after all). Remus’  _Grandad_  — Charles — on the other hand had looked Sirius up and down from his wheelchair and disregarded him with a ‘hmph’.

  
Grandad Charles also carried a garden spade at all times.  
  
“Grandad was in the army,” Remus had explained, seemingly fond. “He isn’t allowed to carry a rifle, so, you know?”  
  
“Right, makes him feel safe.” Sirius had tried making sense of it; they had their wands with them at all times, what difference was a spade, right?  
  
“How’s the lamb, dear?” Hope asked Sirius, who patted Remus’ thigh in a comforting gesture when his shoulders dropped minutely. Hope had taken Remus’ reluctance to visit to heart and seemed to be directing all her attention to Sirius.  
  
“Fantastic,” Sirius replied truthfully and heard a snort from Charles and something like ‘flatterer’ muttered under his breath before he turned to look at Sirius.  
  
“What was it that you do again?” He was stroking the spade with his left hand while Remus cut up the lamb for him.  
  
“Daddy, I’ve told you before, Sirius works at Scotland Yard,” Hope answered patiently.  
  
“Police?” Charles grunted and Sirius quickly lowered his fork.  
  
“No. CID, Mr. Howell.”  
  
“A detective?” Charles waved a gnarled hand at Sirius’ direction. “They do nothing about that hair of yours?”  
  
His  _hair_? No one would even dare to touch it (except Remus and Harry). Sirius’ hair was the gift of gods, a painter’s dream, long (and luscious) as it was now, reaching all the way to the small of his back—  
  
“You’d be surprised by how many criminals I’ve apprehended, thanks to this hair,” Sirius cut off his inner rant blithely, flicking his ponytail.  
  
Remus threw a genuine smile in his direction. “Yes. People tend to underestimate him, but he’s very good at keeping all of London safe.”  
  
“I suppose you wouldn’t put up with a pansy-ass paper-pusher,” Charles relented.  
  
“Pansy-ass?” Sirius mouthed at Hope who rolled her eyes.  
  
“Daddy watches a lot of films,” she whispered.  
  
Charles’ face transformed as he patted Remus’ hand and smiled wide. “Now Remus here, drill instructor at that Scottish cadet school, eh?”  
  
“I just teach self-defence techniques, Grandad,” Remus lied smoothly and the old man nodded approvingly.

“And the next generation of idiots will live slightly longer, thanks to you,” Charles told Remus and that was that.

*

“Did that boy leave you alone and go off with Daddy?” Hope asked when Sirius sat down for breakfast the next day.  
  
“I don’t mind,” Sirius told her, amused that she still referred to Remus as a boy. “They seem really close. It’s—nice.” Weird, actually; Sirius couldn’t imagine even being in the same room as his late grandfather.

Hope took a seat opposite to him and looked towards the window through which Sirius could see Remus behind Charles’ wheelchair and the pair laughing at something. “Remus is Daddy’s favourite. The rest of us just—” she looked down at the table guiltily, “—we never have time for him, and Remus spends all his time with him whenever he’s here. I think—” she stopped and refilled Sirius’ plate with another sausage.

“He remembers what it was like before he went to Hogwarts and met you wonderful boys,” she said softly and Sirius looked up at her, at the grateful smile. He looked down at his plate contemplatively; Remus would do exactly that, hang out with an old, crippled man out of empathy because he knew first-hand the bitter taste of loneliness.

“He’s told me about what you’ve done for him,” Hope said. “You’re all Animaging, was it?”

“Animagi, yeah,” Sirius corrected and she nodded. “Moony’s my—our friend.” He looked outside the window again and blinked when Remus shyly rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sirius almost missed Hope’s words, distracted, wondering what he could be talking to Charles about to make him look so bloody sweet even from this distance.

“Hmm, friend, is he?” she asked curiously. “Sirius, sorry if I’m prying but, is there a special someone—a girlfriend I mean.”

Sirius let out a deprecating laugh, knowing full well just how this would go but not willing to lie. “Well, ladies aren’t exactly my type, Mrs. Lupin.”

“Oh. Alright.” Hope seemed to consider and then, “So, a boyfriend then?”

Sirius grinned at her, surprised but thankful for her being a Muggle and yet taking everything in stride. Guess marrying a wizard and having a werewolf for a son would do that to a woman. “Haven’t been fortunate enough to find that special someone yet.” He stood up and Hope grabbed his empty plate while shoo-ing him with the other hand.

“Now you sound just like Remus.” She looked at the clock and frowned. “I’ll be heading for work now. There’s a list on the fridge, if you and Remus could get everything later on that would be wonderful.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sirius said with a grin and headed outside, putting on his gloves. He cast a wandless Warming Charm over it and turned around the corner to be greeted by Remus’ bright smile. He stared at the blush gracing Remus’ cheeks and couldn’t help smiling; Remus seemed more mellow, relaxed somehow in this place, and something in Sirius fluttered more than was usual around Remus.

“’bout time you woke up, Fabio.”

Sirius turned to the old man eyeing him critically as he stroked the spade on his lap. And the day had only begun.

 

*

  
Trying to help old women in a small town was apparently not wise, Sirius found out.  
  
This whole bad luck bullshit was catching up with him, he realised when he glimpsed the cat beside his motorbike as it swung its arse at him and slunk away, and his knees hit the ground.  
  
_"It’s bad luck to have a black cat turn its back on you."_  Remus had told him once very seriously.   
  
Hands between his legs and eyes shut in pain, he distantly registered Remus’ voice trying to calm the old woman Sirius had tried to help seconds before.  
  
Damn him if he was ever going to even  _offer_  to help a stranger again. Especially old ladies who smelled like cats and carried canes and used said canes to fucking hit people in the nads.  
  
He sat up with difficulty when the security guard of the supermarket came to check on the commotion. Between Remus’ reasonable and Sirius’ angry words they were able to explain that no, Sirius was  _not_  a kidnapper, he had genuinely been trying to help the old woman with her six shopping bags.  
  
“Can’t be too careful,” Charles said during dinner when Remus hadn’t been able to keep his damn mouth shut about the supermarket incident. “Around boys with hair like damn hooligans.”  
  
Before Sirius could stop himself, he set his glass on the table and looked straight at Charles. “At least I’ve got hair on my head.” Oh. No. Remus coughed into his hand.  
  
“Well, son, say that to me when you get to my age. If you can manage to live that long,” Charles added, seemingly unoffended.  
  
“I’ll do that,” Sirius replied and returned to his dinner. Charles’s silver mustache ruffled.  
  
“Fool! Do you think I’ll be alive when you’re as old as I am?”  
  
“No,” Sirius said easily and grinned at the man, “I’ll see you in the afterlife. You can eat your words then; plenty of time to wait around.” He could feel Remus’ eyes on him; going up against Remus’ favourite relative was not winning him any points, for sure.  
  
“Boys—” Hope started when suddenly Charles burst out in a fit of laughter (cackles, actually).  
  
“We’ll see who eats their words, Rapunzel,” the man told Sirius, with a gleeful smile that looked strange on his wrinkled face. He turned to Remus and ruffled his hair before softening his tone. “I like this one.”  
  
Sirius watched the exchange quizzically, particularly Remus whose cheeks took on a pink hue at the words. The reaction nagged at something in Sirius’ subconscious, but for the life of him he couldn’t put a finger on it.

*

  
From watching the Muggle news together, to solving crosswords in the daily newspaper and house cleaning, Sirius was starting to—  
  
“Think Charles keeps finding work for us to do every time we finish something?” Sirius asked as he helped Remus in the snow covered garden, staying away from the leeks as instructed.  
  
“He misses ordering people around, I think,” Remus told him and reached out a gloved hand. “Hand me the trowel, would you?”  
  
From this close, Sirius could see the freckles on Remus’ face as he pulled out dead roots and discarded them. “We’re better off out here than inside,” Sirius admitted, thinking about the gaggle of children in the house that had arrived earlier in the morning with Remus’ cousin Patricia.  
  
“Sirius? The one who needs this, then,” she had said when he’d introduced himself and handed him a grey rabbit’s foot which he’d pocketed warily. And then proceeded to introduce her children; Art, Bran, Anya, Primrose and lastly the toddler with a monstrous cry, Patience.  
  
Sirius was good with names, but the children? Not so much.  
  
“Full house tonight,” Remus told him and shook his head as locks of hair fell into his eyes. Sirius automatically reached out and tucked them behind his ears. “Thanks,” Remus said with a smile and Sirius blinked.  
  
Remus was a nice-looking man, he’d known that for a while (ten years, actually) and Sirius could appreciate that without being weird. That mix of rough scars and gentle expressions, unassuming yet witty, brave to a fault but doubtful—  
  
Sirius shook his thoughts off abruptly as Patricia approached them holding up a lit joint. Remus dusted off his hands against his trousers and raised an eyebrow at her.  
  
“Is that what I think it is?”  
  
“Yes,” Patricia replied easily as she blew out smoke rings and winked at Sirius.  
  
“You’re a mother of five kids,” Remus reminded her and she waved him off.  
  
“That’s exactly why, Remus,” she countered and then added, “Quality stuff, straight from my garden.”  
  
“Don’t tell me,” Remus said with a groan as he stood up. “I’d like to plead ignorance if the police ever come for you.”  
  
“Wait,” Sirius stopped Remus to dust off the back of his hair and straighten his coat. Remus turned his head slightly with a murmur of ‘thanks’.  
  
“Friends, huh?” Patricia said lowly and Sirius caught a gleam in her eyes. “You know, I think I forgot to pack the baby food. Pick up a few from the supermarket for me, would you?”  
  
“How could you?” Remus asked just as Sirius responded with an enthusiastic “Okay.”  
  
“We could go for a ride,” Sirius explained, pointing towards his bike and Remus shrugged.  
  
“I guess so.”  
  
“And Patience would probably behave better on a full stomach,” Patricia interjected. That was all the encouragement they needed.  
  
Sirius was glad for the uneventful trip this time though he felt the phantom pain in his balls when he parked his bike. On the way back he let Remus drive for a change after seeing the way he was practically caressing the handle bars when they had come out of the shop.  
  
As predicted (or not), the weather took an unexpected turn and the afternoon skies opened up with vengeance, drenching Sirius and Remus all the way.  
  
“Can’t use magic,” Remus shouted; returning dry would definitely arouse suspicion. They had foregone their helmets the moment it had begun raining. Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus’ middle and tilted his head upwards, the whirring of the bike and pounding rain around calming him somehow. Chilled to the bone and madly exhilarated at the sensation, he barked out a laugh before letting out a loud howl. He grinned when Remus followed suit and he howled again, taking pleasure in the wide stares of the hurrying passersby when they neared the Howell house.

 

  
  
“We’ve got to do that again,” Sirius said as they entered the house and he headed for the fireplace in the living room immediately, barely glancing at Charles sleeping in his wheelchair. He began shaking his head in a Padfoot-like fashion and was so engrossed in it that he didn’t notice when Charles’ eyes had shot open, his hand swinging the spade in Sirius’ direction.  
  
It was only Sirius’ instincts that saved him from having his face smashed in by the heavy metal as he deflected it wandlessly and rolled away, dodging it before he shot up to stand defensively.  
  
“What the fuck are—”  
  
“Grandad! Padfoot—”  
  
“Daddy! What are you doing?” Hope was striding towards them, expression furious, and Sirius moved away as she brushed past him and tried to wrestle the spade away. “Let it go, you old codger!”  
  
“Mum—” Remus tried to intervene, only to back away as both Charles and Hope glared at him.  
  
“What did you do, boy?” Charles asked Sirius when Hope gave up and began checking Sirius’ face for damage instead. “You did something. Can’t have evaded it. Can he?” he added, looking down at the spade in his grip.  
  
“He just did, Grandad,” Remus pointed out resignedly, and turned away only to see the rest of the family watching the exchange in amusement.  
  
“Wicked.” Bran, Patricia’s oldest whispered, awestruck as the younger ones clapped with gusto.  
  
Remus stared at them for a second and headed for his room muttering something like, “I’m so done with this family.”  
  
Sirius wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment.

 

*

  
“We’re wizards, Moony. Come on up here.” Sirius pulled out his wand from under his pillow and pointed it at the bed.  
  
“I’ll hog your blanket too, Padfoot,” Remus warned him even as he pushed away the mattress on the floor and was already tossing his pillow on the enlarged bed.  
  
“We’ll see about that,” Sirius said as he laid back down and shifted to make space for Remus. Better this way, at least he would get some sleep; Remus sighing, tossing and turning on the floor hadn’t helped for the last half an hour. “Been a while since we did this.” Something about the rain pelting away outside and being so close in the most vulnerable time of the day had Sirius simultaneously relaxed and hyper aware of Remus.  
  
“Since Hogwarts,” Remus answered and turned towards him as he burrowed under his blanket, hair tumbling over his forehead and Sirius pushed it away automatically.  
  
Patricia’s smirks thrown at him whenever he touched Remus during dinner earlier niggled at Sirius and he moved his hand away. He was just doing his part in reassuring Remus that being a werewolf didn’t mean he had to be touch-starved or anything (never mind that it had been years since Remus had voiced anything like that).  
  
“So, does Charles always do that if someone interrupts his  _afternoon nap_?” He asked, changing the subject so as not to dwell on the way he just  _wanted_  to touch Remus.  
  
“We just steer clear of him usually,” Remus admitted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “First-hand experience.” That startled a laugh out of Sirius.  
  
“What on earth were you doing?”  
  
“Trying to sneak out for a fag. Stop it!” Remus flicked Sirius on the forehead. “Mum doesn’t like it when I smoke. I was twenty three then,” he added making Sirius muffle a laugh.  
  
“Your family is so weird,” Sirius confessed finally and let himself run a finger over the bridge of Remus’ nose to the tip, tracing the path of imaginary broken bone, wondering if younger Remus had held his bloody nose and looked at his grandfather as if he’d lost his marbles. “But it’s a good one. Thanks a lot, for—you know?” For bringing him along here. For thinking about him.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Remus answered, knowing exactly what he meant even if he wasn’t able to put into words. Sirius let his finger drift lower, over the dip above Remus’ lips and held his breath as he daringly traced the Cupid’s bow before pressing against his lower lip. Remus’ hand came up and clutched Sirius’ hand, stopping him.  
  
“Go to sleep, Padfoot,” Remus whispered, seemed to hesitate and then Sirius inhaled sharply as Remus’ lips touched the tip of his fingers. Remus lowered their hands without letting go and settled finally. “Night.”  
  
“Yeah. You too,” Sirius found himself saying as he shut his eyes against the sparks running through him and fell into a fitful sleep as the rain continued drumming over the roof.

 

*

   
By mid-day on Christmas Eve Sirius was ready to lock himself up in the room he’d been sharing with Remus for the last two days. He would re-read Peter’s postcard (attached with a picture of him and his Greek beau winking) fifty times if it meant escaping the rowdiness. Patricia’s husband had joined them, as had Remus’ Aunt Grace who dished out advice for anybody and everybody.  
  
Mind stretched thin, ready to snap like a fucking rubber band, Sirius automatically looked over at Remus. His lips quirked when Remus caught his eye and sent the S.O.S look at him over Aunt Grace’s shoulder.  
  
“We’ve really got to get that holly up on the wall, long life and all,” Sirius interrupted them with a charming smile as he helped Remus escape a lengthy lecture about his on-coming mid-life crisis that was bound to happen if he didn’t find someone to settle with soon.  
  
“Thanks,” Remus said in a relieved tone and handed him a string of tinsel. “Be right back.” He moved towards the kitchen where Charles was beckoning him as he held out his spade.  
  
His spade with a large bunch of mistletoe hanging from the edge.  
  
Sirius started working over the walls near the kitchen and heard Charles smugly recount just how he had extracted the mistletoe from the apple tree in Mrs. Pritchard’s garden next door. Remus was shaking his head with a smile as he tried to hang up the mistletoe in the kitchen doorway. Sirius grinned as Remus stood on tiptoes and huffed when he failed.  
  
“Boy!” Charles’ gruff call jolted Sirius into realising that he had stopped working and that the old man was waving a hand at him. “Come on over here. Quick,” he added when Sirius raised a brow. He dropped the tinsel and stood a good foot away from the man.  
  
“Can’t you see that he needs help?” Charles pointed his spade at Remus, who was too busy to notice the exchange. “Go on,” Charles urged as he nudged Sirius with the spade.  
  
“ _Merlin’s pants!_  Okay!” Sirius exclaimed and strode over to Remus to give him a helping hand. “Come on, Remus. I’m the tall one.” He felt Remus let go immediately and grinned when he hung it up easily. “See, that wasn’t so—what?”  
  
“Err. We’re under it,” Remus said, sounding strangled. “The mistletoe, Sirius!”  
  
Ah. That. Right.  
  
“It’s tradition to kiss,” Hope said loudly and Sirius turned his head to see her watching them with a playful smile.  
  
“Mum!”  
  
“Oh! Don’t be a chicken, Remus. Go on, boys,” Hope said with a wave of her spatula.  
  
“Well,” Sirius started as he looked back down at Remus and cleared his throat, “pucker up, Moony.” Remus let out a shaky chuckle and Sirius gulped, butterflies starting to swarm inside him, freckles and brown eyelashes starkly visible as he leaned forward.  
  
“Lucky me, eh?” Remus muttered as his fingers drifted up to brush against Sirius’ face. “Kissed by Sirius Black on Christmas Eve.”  
  
“I’m the lucky one, Moony,” Sirius admitted loud enough for Remus’ ears. He saw the way Remus’ brown eyes widened and without further ado, kissed him.

 

  
  
Sirius felt everything fall into place then, as if the kiss itself was answering every question he’d had about Remus. All those times when he had simply wanted to touch Remus? When he had found his eyes locked onto Remus’ face and smiling when Remus smiled? The sheer need to be close to him? The blushes and lingering touches from Remus?  
  
For once, Sirius thought, he had been  _very_  slow to catch on.  
  
His eyes fluttered open when he felt Remus pull back slowly, fingers still threaded through Sirius’ hair. The world around them rapidly came into view again. Sirius let himself back away, let his feet lead him through the house filled with chatter and outside, shoes digging in the snow. Dazed, he touched his lips with rapidly cooling fingers. How was it that kissing Remus had felt so natural when he had never even envisioned it before?  _Like coming home,_ floated in his mind.  
  
He turned, startled, when his jacket was thrown over his shoulders and found Remus looking at him guardedly. “Thanks,” he said, not realising how frigid he’d become and pocketed his hands.  
  
“Are you okay, Padfoot?” Remus asked and Sirius found himself looking at a spot under his eyes thoughtfully. They had always been best friends, partners-in-crime; Padfoot and Moony. Remus, the flint to his stone during a successful prank and the Aguamenti to his reckless fire when in serious trouble. For it to turn to PadfootandMoony— _SiriusandRemus_ —an extension so natural, like the perfect wand in one’s hand; it was—  
  
“Good,” Sirius answered, lips curving up and he couldn’t believe how he hadn’t seen it coming. “Brilliant,” he said and let out a laugh, euphoric and giddy and before he knew it, he had linked a hand with Remus’.  
  
“You’re all right with this?” Remus asked, sounding faint as he blinked down at their hands, as though unable to believe his eyes. “You understand what it means, right?”  
  
“Both of us get steady boyfriends?” Sirius tugged Remus by the hand, unable to keep the grin off his face when Remus stumbled into him. He wrapped his arms around Remus and leaned in, brushing his nose gently against Remus’. “Not like I’m rushing into it. I’ve actually thought about it, you know.”  
  
“For all of five minutes?” Remus asked skeptically. Sirius could see the conflicting expressions warring across his face, felt Remus trying to pull away one moment and squeeze his fingers the next.  
  
“A lot can happen in five minutes,” Sirius said quietly, meaning it. He didn’t need another day or year to know that  _this_  was right. “So?”  
  
Remus answered it by relenting, finally, as he melted into the embrace.  
  
Sirius felt something unfurl in his chest then and he pulled back so he could kiss Remus. They’d spent a lifetime talking, laughing, teasing; Sirius should have known all there was to know about Remus’ lips. He hadn’t known how warm they could be against his own, like that first sip of Butterbeer.  
  
Or that Remus was susceptible to laughter when kissing his best friend.  
  
“Is this your way of telling me I’m a bad kisser?” Sirius asked with a put-upon frown, albeit slightly seriously.  
  
“No. Just that we gave the audience quite a show,” Remus told him, still chuckling as he motioned towards the house and Sirius saw someone closing the curtains of the window. “And I’m happy,” Remus admitted, astonishing Sirius with the sincerity of his simple words.  
  


  
  
When they entered the house, they heard Patricia saying, “What did I say, Anya? The rabbit’s foot really works.”  
  
“When I said to settle down soon, I didn’t mean  _today_ ,” Aunt Grace was telling nobody in particular. “But Remus has always been such a good boy; mindful of my words.” Quickly she clutched Sirius’ sleeve as he was passing and loudly added, “He gets it from our side of the family, you know.”  
  
Still stunned speechless at the warmth Remus’ words had brought, Sirius simply smiled as he nodded dutifully, looking over at Charles who was now contentedly talking to his spade.  


When Remus tugged him by the fingers, Sirius pulled himself free and followed Remus into the chaos of all things shiny, loud and hopeful..

 

 


End file.
